My bed is double functional
I use it to make love on
And it is where my mind becomes extracted from my body and goes to planes of potent virtuosity
Where the sheer sound of self-reflection is an incredible pleasure
The body, a conveyor of material wants and superfluous desires is left behind in puzzled abandonment
But the mind does not lament
It blasts out of the squaller of the western world and all of its heavy reliance on demystified theatrics and the attempts of restoring a cleavered generation gap
The mind’s finesse and savage grace carry it to a hypnotic river of awareness and comprehension
The river bed is self-continued
The latency stage is over, all indications point forward to end the played out injustice of self-deprivation , run with fluidity and quit the life of a spectator
Then, pool into the communal crown
Where we are all holy royal
Where we are all enrolled enthusiasts of freedom from one’s own shackles of doubt and shame
The corrupt coercion is out of favor and now we've assembled without the fear of involvement
For we've been in play since we crawled out of the womb
But it is now that we have decided to speak
And this drastic turnover is first and foremost and idea, no more no less
Not a law
Not a war
Not a religion
Not and organization or a political party
It is an idea to let the mind wander and find independence
Independence from the body, the world and all the smoke and mirrors that pollute it daily
Then grab the vibrations of positivity in terms of thought and action then touch with an extension of personality
So go, live in your uptight, delightful, tangible world and dispel this theory
I’ll stay here sitting astride this moot point
      -Tommy Johnson

So I scuttled up, until I found a voice like Japan, I read him his rights, turned out the lights, and laid right back on the sand. They said, "Sir, he was much of a father to me, but we were labeled his kin, right in our family tree." "Oh wow", I said, with a gentle, smooth voice, he went missing last August, but now he wants back you boys?" "Oh yes, he sure is a feral man. We think that's why he dried up and flew to Japan." Right then, the two of them went silent just like two second story men, so I inquired, "What happened then?" "From Monday thru Sunday he took to prayer from the bible, and on every other weeknight he watched Japan's Top Model. He threw gallant parties to a harem of wives, he read each of their palms, and looked in their eyes; some time later, when everyone was about to leave, he'd turn on Happy End and start a wild ****." By this time I was tired, the sun began to set, I grew tired of my beach patch and yearned for my bed. Although soporific, I tried to be polite, I said, "Let's finish this conversation some other time." "Of course!", they said, "We're off to bed. We'll see that you'll do the same." Then they stood up quick, and reached down and picked up my chains. The beach we laid on was black top, asphalt and tar, the bed I craved was behind a row of private bars. The two of them, them both, were children of mine, because my memory is shot, this might've been their millionth time. i got locked up in a county that's dry as a beach, like Elizabethtown, Kentucky, where I was raised till 13. No one, not even the warden, knows really why I'm here, even some man from Cell Block Five, asked me last Sunday, why was I here. My beach perhaps, it's love at last, concrete, gravel, and stone- a 6' x 10' room with bars and a porcelain throne. It's mine I cry, each night I die, with glee, with smile, with rite. But it makes the other guys run at me, and try to start random fights. I don't remember the boat I took, but I remember the tour, going to Japan at Epcot Center since I'd never gone before.